The Kids Don't Stand A Chance
by mimujer
Summary: No one attended the Saturday detention on March 24th 1984, with the exception of John Bender. But then, who was John Bender? He was a nobody. And Claire Standish was a somebody. They'd never so much as locked eyes with each other for longer than three seconds, never mind actually holding a conversation. So why were they so drawn to each other?
1. Rich

Claire Standish showered every morning and every night, with almost exactly 12 hours between each wash. She had read in a Cosmo magazine that this ensured that hair prone to greasiness, as hers was, would become softer and fuller overtime. To anyone else a routine like this may have been a chore, but Claire felt like she needed little delights like that in life to make herself feel better about herself.

Once she went into the girls bathroom and saw someone had smeared the word 'pristine princess' next to her name on a toilet wall.

She preferred the word 'clean.'

She had grown up in a Catholic household, with both of her parents as advocates to the importance of attending Church every Sunday. Perhaps it made them feel better for the sins they committed on the other six days of the week, because she often felt like the only one in her family that paid attention to any of the messages written in the bible. Her older brother, Christoper, had left for the west coast for college, far far away from Chicago or Illinois, some five years ago, and although the phone calls shared between the siblings were little and not very often, Claire knew that he threw all of the hours of Sunday school down the toilet every Friday night during happy hour. Her mother drank nightly, usually with girlfriends at the country club though it was beginning to become a worrying solo activity, and she was sure that her dad had slept around at least once since getting married.

Claire didn't approve of any of their actions.

One of the burners at her school had once chucked a wad of paper at her back while she walked along the hall with the word 'tease' inscribed on it, and she was sure she once overheard her best friends gossiping about her being a prude.

And though she never liked to miss out on the parties that they all got invited to, or the nights driving around as boy girl into the city, she couldn't help but push Patrick Stubbins—or simply 'Stubby'—away whenever he attempted to put his hands up her shirt while intoxicated. She didn't think it was bad of her to want to wait until she found someone who knew what the meaning of 'no' was.

She'd been called a bitch before, a brat, even a wuss for not getting into an argument when trying to avoid the former title. But there was one name that she couldn't really get rid of, or shake, because it was quite simply true.

'Rich.'

She came from money, was first introduced to designer clothing as soon as she'd taken an interest in dressing well. She had her nails done regularly, though she still liked to paint them herself occasionally, and whenever her parents got bored they had two villas in two different European countries to visit if they so desired. She'd been raised for most of her life with the help of a nanny, was fluent in French thanks to private tutoring, and for her 16th birthday her dad had taken her to a BMW garage and told her to "ignore the prices, just pick the one you like the best."

And when she got caught sneaking out to go shopping by her school's principal, her dad came into school wearing his work suit and she was able to get out of her punishment.

Perhaps the title wasn't too bad, as long as it prevented her from having to attend forced weekend detention sessions.


	2. Fire Bell

"Did you hear about that Lester kid?" Ronnie said.

John Bender looked up from lighting his cigarette long enough to listen.

"Someone taped his ass cheeks together in the locker room last period."

He sniggered, and went back to what he was doing while the other two guys they were with cracked up with laughter.

"You mean the nerdy one?" Travis said.

"The one whose glasses I broke in 10th," Bender cut in.

"That's fucking funny, man," Travis said. John nodded, his smirk still on his face.

"Who did it?" Jev asked.

"No clue," Ronnie began, "thought it might have been one of you shit heads, that's why I said it."

"Not guilty," Travis said.

"Yeah, I gathered that when you didn't even know who he was."

"Oh, fuck," Jev muttered under his breath.

"What?" someone from the group asked.

They were sat just around the corner from the school building, taking up space just in front of the car lot on the grass banks. It was quiet, peaceful even, so anything said was heard to go unnoticed.

"I've got a fucking redo test today in English. Because I failed the last two."

"Is that the freshman class you're still taking?" Travis asked, trying his hardest to cover up his laughter.

"Shut up."

"What period?" Bender asked.

"Fourth."

"I'll set off the fire bell for you."

"Really?"

John nodded, not looking back at him as he stubbed out his cigarette butt into the grass, watching the last of the smoke rise up in a brief moment of interest.

"Well, isn't that sweet," Travis said.

"Not like I've got anything better to do. And you can go fuck yourself," he pointed at Travis, but grinned back at him when he was met with laughter.

Jev sat up from the floor and reached into the top pocket of his denim jacket, then pulled out a small plastic bag.

"This is my last for the week, but if you do that for me, Bender, then it's all yours."

"I only accept payment upfront."

Jev rolled his eyes, but still threw the bag over to him.

"Looks like we've got ourselves a deal."


	3. Fourth Period

"I can't believe Vernon only threatened me with detention and not you!" Claire said to her friend Heather.

They were in their fourth period History class; the only lesson that they actually sat next to each other in. Their teacher, Ms Makowski was too busy scribbling notes on the black board about the New Economic Policy to notice that the girls had leaned towards each others desks so they could form a quick conversation.

"Well, I only missed Art and, like, really, who needs that? But it's not like you actually got detention."

"I guess. It's just so frustrating. He always seems to pick on me whenever he sees me around. Like that time he told me my skirt was inappropriate across the hallway, so he had to shout to be heard."

"It was only inappropriate because he couldn't stop staring at your ass."

"Shut up!"

"Come on, Claire, it's your best asset."

"That's so irrelevant to what I'm trying to say."

"Yeah, yeah, I know what you're getting at. Woe is me, I'm Claire."

Claire glared back at Heather, her lips pursed.

"Okay, so you almost got a detention, big deal. Almost doesn't go on records, almost doesn't get you grounded. So you can definitely go to Stubby's party on Saturday night," Heather said.

"I don't know, my dad is still pretty mad."

"So ask your mom to let you go!"

Claire shrugged, and glanced up at the front of class just in time to catch Makowski turning around, and the girls quickly broke apart.

For as long as Claire had known Heather, which had been since the start of middle school, she'd recognised that she could be very persistent. Correction: relentless. As Makowski started lecturing the class on Lenin's economic goals for Russia, Claire felt a bony elbow nudge her arm. She looked over at her friend.

"Please go," she mouthed.

Claire pulled a face.

"Stubby, party," she whispered, then raised her hands slightly, but not enough to be noticed by anyone not watching her, and waggled them up and down like she was dancing.

Claire sighed and looked away, refusing to reply and willing the lesson to end quickly before she was dragged into doing something she didn't want to do.

Her prayers were answered minutes later in the form of a fire bell—a random, completely out of the blue fire bell, that could only be credited as an accident in a home ec. lesson or a prank.

Although the students were often reminded to evacuate the building quickly but orderly, staying with their class at all times when in a fire drill, the opposite always happened. As others began to shuffle out, Claire stood and swung her bag over her shoulder, walking slowly towards the field with Heather, leaving the rest of their class behind as Makowski tried to herd them all back together.

They passed by Vernon along the way, and Claire felt her face grow hot from embarrassment, mostly due to the fact he probably had her picked out now as a trouble maker, but also at the idea of his possible perverted glances at her skirt lengths.

"Go back to your classes! False alarm!" he shouted in his stern voice at the students, but nobody seemed to pay much attention to him. Any excuse to skip fourth seemed like a good one.

Claire and Heather quickly located the rest of their group, meaning Benny and Steff, and they huddled together on the chilly and wet Illinois day. Heavy and warm coats were currently out of season.

"Oh, Claire, please, please, please come to the party," Steff whined, "it won't be the same without you!"

"Yeah, remember how fun his last party was?" said Benny.

"All I remember about the last one was Heather throwing up in my car on the way home," said Claire.

"So this time I'll be the designated driver, okay?" said Heather.

"I'll believe that when I see it!"

"You know, Andrew Clarke will be there, and he's totally been checking you out lately," said Benny.

"No he has not!" said Claire.

"Yeah, he has! James told me he asked about you the other day."

Just round the corner from where the girls were standing, Vernon was attempting to catch the culprit of the impromptu fire alarm. Currently, John Bender was attempting to climb up the school's flag pole to get away from him. Upon hearing the commotion, a crowd gathered round to watch, but no one attempted to help their principal. Instead they cheered the criminal on until he was pulled back down by his legs.

"What a joke," said Benny.

"Who is that?" asked Heather.

"That Bender kid. The one who got caught smoking pot during Homecoming week. He was lighting up on the bleachers in the middle of the game," said Steff.

"I'll say it again, what a joke."

"Yeah," Claire added, glancing over as Bender slapped Vernon's hand away from his leg, complaining about how near it was to his ass.

Now that he had been caught, everyone went back to their conversations, Bender no longer being of interest anymore.

"So we'll all go to Heather's house on Saturday to get ready, and then she can take us to the party," said Steff.

"Sound like a good plan, Claire?" Benny asked.

Claire had stopped listening to the conversation. She was perhaps the only one still paying attention to what was going on with Vernon, the only one watching him cart away John Bender by the arm back to his office. The only person to look back as John looked out at the crowds of people on the field, pleased with his work, grinning from ear to ear. His eyes paused when they found hers, and didn't leave her. They watched her, and she watched back, and neither looked away until he had turned round the corner.

"Yeah," Claire murmured, half aware of the question.


	4. Vernon's Office

John Bender was practically thrust into Vernon's office with all the might that the much smaller man could produce. At aged 18, John was much taller and broader than his principle, and he knew deep down that Vernon made up for this with the angry fits he threw at him.

He liked to call it the 'little Dick syndrome.'

"Sit down, Bender," Vernon spat as he rounded the office to take a seat in his chair opposite. With no one else around, John couldn't put on as much of a show anymore. It wasn't as fun. So he did what he was told, and squatted until he was seated on the much smaller chair.

"I know it was you that pulled that alarm," Vernon began again.

"Dick, I don't mean to be pedantic, but did you actually see me near the alarm?"

"I know I saw you try to mount the flag pole, and if that doesn't scream guilty then I don't know what does."

"Maybe I just enjoy climbing? I'm thinking about taking up sports, getting me a scholarship."

"Don't screw around, Bender. We both know it was you, and stunts like that do not get students scholarships. Any college would be stupid to take you on."

"I'm hurt. Depressed, even, that you would think that of me," John said, leaning back in the seat and propping his feet up on the desk. Vernon immediately swatted them away.

"One more stunt like this, Bender, and you're out of here. You're gone. You got that? And no one at this school would even miss you. I've been here long enough to see jokes like you come and go, and none of them were rememberable. As soon as the seniors graduate, you won't be anything more than some party anecdote."

Bender responded with a glare.

"So, did you pull the fire alarm?"

"No."

"Bender, I'm only going to ask once more, and it'll be a lot easier for you if you tell me the truth. Did you pull the alarm?"

"No."

"That's it. Detention."

Bender snorted. The word meant nothing to him anymore.

"Oh, no, it won't be that easy," Vernon continued, "because the detention will be this Saturday in the library. It'll just be me and you, and 8 hours of solitary confinement. You got that?"

"Sounds like a sweet date, but I think I'll pass. I'm busy this Saturday."

"I don't care if you're having dinner with the Queen of England on Saturday, you'll be in the detention. And if you're not, then I'll count that as your last stunt. I'll call your parents and you'll be out of this school for good."

It took everything in Bender not to allow his eyes to widen at the realisation of Vernon's statement. If he got kicked out of school, if his parent's got called about his behaviour; he was dead. Buried six feet under the ground dead.

"Whatever, man."

Vernon ignored him.

"Now get out of my office. And if I hear anything more from you today, then I won't hesitate—in fact, I'd be happy to kick you out myself. Go."

Bender eyed him a moment longer, then stood up hastily, knocking over an ornament on Vernon's desk in the process. He left for the door before anything more could be said, and slammed it on the way out, fighting the urge to curse as he did.

Lying on the floor just outside the office was a discarded school newspaper, presumably some other kids litter or some special door-to-door delivery for all the staff. Bender picked it up and read as he walked along.

Clarke Sparks Grapplers. Story by Brian Johnson.

"What a load of garbage," he muttered, tore a page from the middle section then tossed the rest of the paper back on the floor behind him. He neatly folded the page he had taken and put it in his jacket pocket; the thinness of it—thanks to the schools cheapness when it came to printing—had always made for perfect rolling papers, and he had a bag of weed in his pocket with his name on it.

As he walked away, he didn't notice a girl, face covered by hair and dressed in all black, pick up his newspaper and discreetly slip it into her bag. Probably because nobody noticed her.


	5. Shop

On Fridays, John Bender had a double period of shop.

It had been that way every year since he was a freshman, and he had always figured that it was Vernon's way of giving himself a break; by shutting Bender in the furthest room away from the school's offices.

Of course, John wasn't the only badly behaved student at Shermer. Looking around the classroom, it was clear to see that the room was full of them. Delinquents, close to dropping out or held back in school too long that they were too bored to try anymore. And every Friday they gathered in the class room, busying themselves with the machinery, as far away from their school principal as was possible while still remaining on the school site.

Bender imagined this was Vernon's idea of the perfect wet dream.

In reality, they had all chosen to take the class, and their teacher—Mr. Lawrence—didn't seem to mind any of the students he was faced with. In fact, at aged 52 with scraggly grey hair that he tucked away into a pony tail and a gut big enough to knock a small kid out, he gave off the impression that he didn't seem to care about much else in his life either.

Despite the premise, John Bender almost found himself enjoying those two hours every week. Like a break away from everything, where he could cut as much wood as he wanted and drill holes into anything he could find to his hearts content. It was almost peaceful.

Of course, there were the kids who sat at the front who didn't take the class for fun, or because they were good at it, like he had. Shop was considered somewhat of an 'easy A', something to take if you wanted to make your report card look good without too much effort. There were no major tests, nothing to study for. It was the perfect bait.

John had seen students come and go, watched them wince every time they picked up a hammer and not know which machine the band saw was. He spent most of the lessons in near stitches. Most of those types ended up quitting after one term.

Shop was the one class where John actually felt like he knew what he was doing. He was the smart kid for once, and he enjoyed it. Not that he would ever admit that to anyone.

Bender hustled into the room that morning, his bad mood still evident from yesterday. Usually he was marginally happy on Fridays, knowing that he had a two day break from the hell hole known as Shermer high, but with the promise of a full extra day tomorrow he couldn't even bring himself to greet Lawrence as he passed his desk.

"Cheerful as ever, Bender," he said as he passed.

"Piss off," John replied, dropping himself down into his seat. Lawrence just chuckled.

"No thanks. Just get to work today."

Bender nodded, and ignored everyone for the rest of the period.

It wasn't until he went up to the front of the class that he actually zoned back into reality, allowing himself to listen in to the talking going on around the classroom. He had been meaning to ask for Lawrence's advice on which type of wood to use, but found that his teacher was already in a conversation with one of the 'easy A' kids, a dweeb whose name Bender had never bothered to learn.

"Look, I-I know that the lamp left a little to…um…be desired. But if you could just reconsider the grading—just please reconsider, because the woodwork was some of my best…at least I think…and-"

Lawrence cut him off.

"Brian, the light didn't turn on. That was what I was grading on. I can't let you pass when it didn't happen, you know that. If I did that, then I'd have to pass everyone else in here, and it would be anarchy."

The corners of Bender's mouth twitched at the reply.

"Is there any extra credit I could get? I just really, really can't get an F. I just can't. It will mess up my GPA and-"

He was cut off again.

"Why did you take this class, Johnson?"

"Well…I…u-um I thought it would be fun."

"I think we both know what the truth is. But don't worry, I don't mind, because now you've learned that it's not as easy as it looks. High school's tough, Johnson."

He paused, and eyed Brian for a few seconds.

"Look, I don't like grading pieces badly. In fact, it kills me inside. Almost as much as it kills me to see bad sanding of a product. But I can't move your grade up."

"But wha-"

"I'm not finished. I can, however, offer extra credit, but the highest you'll be able to get is a B, at a push. Then I think next term you should look into taking a different class instead. Is that okay?"

"Yes. Yes, sir. That's perfect, even. This helps—helps more than you know. Honestly."

"Alright, then. Now why don't you have a look again at this lamp and see if you can figure out why it doesn't work and I'll sort out the extra work for our next lesson."

The boy—Brian—nodded, and grabbed his wooden lamp from the desk. He turned and almost abruptly collided with Bender's chest, but he moved away before they came into contact. Brian's face visibly fell as he looked up at the other, much taller, scowling boy, and then he made to leave again before Bender could say anything. Bender noted how he had looked like a deer caught in car headlights, like he had just run into him as he was raising his fist. He liked having that effect on people.

"What can I do for you, Bender?" said Lawrence, snapping Bender out of his daze.

Once the conversation was over, John went straight back to work, but no amount of woodwork could shake off his fowl mood.


	6. Saturday

On Saturday, Claire woke up at 10 o'clock and was picked up by Heather an hour later to meet their other girlfriends at the mall.

She had completely forgotten, and neglected, the fact that if it weren't for her father, she would be sat in a full day detention right now as punishment for the very thing she planned to do today.

The girls always met in front of the water feature at the mall, and quickly greeted each other when they had all arrived.

"I'm so excited for tonight. Like, I could barely sleep last night because I was so excited," Steff explained to them all as they began to head towards their favourite stores.

"Me too, I've been planning exactly what I want to wear in my head all week," said Benny.

The girls darted through the various other shoppers, going about their usual circuit route of the ground floor of the mall. Their first stop was through a large archway painted in white to match the inside walls of the store. Just above the arch, emblazoned in white glowing lights, was its name—Ralph Lauren.

"This would be so cute with your complexion, Claire," Heather said as she picked up a white shirt closer to the back of the store.

"Isn't that a mans shirt, though?" said Steff.

"Yeah, but who cares about that? Try it on, Claire!"

Claire gave a tight smile and took the hanger from Heather, eyeing its label. Her friend had picked her out the smallest size, and she was unsure it would even fit past her hips. While the others weren't looking, she quickly replaced it for the size up.

Realistically, she didn't have anything to worry about in terms of her figure. She had a boyish frame, with small features all over, and the smallest waist of all the girls. Even so, she kept up a vigorous diet and work out regime to remain in good shape.

In the changing room, Claire's fears were only heightened when she left her cubicle wearing an ensemble that consisted of the white shirt and a matching tight, white skirt.

She turned in front of her friends, who were all sticking their heads out of their cubicles to get a look, and then looked at each of their faces. Heather seemed to be attempting to hide a grimace.

"I don't think white on white works," she said.

"Yeah, and you can see your underwear through that," Benny added.

"Well, obviously I wouldn't be wearing a pink bra if I wore this. But I kind of like it," said Claire.

"It's up to you, really, but, like, I personally wouldn't buy that outfit and I'd advise you not to," Heather said, then closed her curtain again to finish trying on her clothes.

Claire's face visibly fell.

"Is it really that bad?" she asked, turning again to look at herself in one of the mirrors.

"I just don't think white skirts ever look good, you know? But that's just, like, my opinion," said Steff, "but if you want to wear that, don't let us put you off. I, personally, would wear trousers with a shirt like that. Did you try on the one we picked out for you?"

"Not yet."

"Try that before you make any decisions."

Steff gave Claire a smile, some attempt at comfort, then headed back into her own changing cubicle. Claire did the same a moment later, but once the curtain closed behind her she stared at herself for a long time in the mirror.

If her friends didn't like the outfit, then surely it didn't look good on her—even if she thought it looked great. Surely she shouldn't buy it. They were just looking out for her, after all.

She tried reassuring herself this as she discarded the skirt and slipped into the light pink trousers that Heather had insisted she tried on with its matching jacket. Immediately Claire rolled the sleeves up past her elbows and leant down to cuff the ankles of the trousers, attempting to put some of her own personal style into the ensemble. But before she could show the outfit to any of her friends, Benny had emerged from her changing room and was insisting that all the girls came to see what she had picked out.

She was wearing a pastel yellow mini dress. It had a high neckline and loose, short sleeves, highlighting her slim arms. Unfortunately, Benny had a short neck and short legs, and the dress made her look more stumpy than its desired effect.

"Well?" she demanded as she turned again.

Benny had the worst temper of the whole group. All of the girls knew better than to break the bad news to her.

"I love it. Do you?" Steff said quickly.

"I do. I've changed my mind, I want to wear this tonight."

"It's so cool, Ben, so you," Claire said, lying through her teeth.

"I know," Benny replied, unable to take her eyes off herself in the mirror.

"Is that the pant suit we gave you, Claire?" Steff asked.

"Yeah, I just put it on."

Claire stepped out into the room, and the girls all gasped in excitement. Except for Benny, who only glanced up briefly to get a quick look.

"You look like you just stepped out of the stores catalogue! So cute!" Heather said, her voice high in excitement.

"You have to wear that tonight, it looks amazing. So much better than the skirt," Steff said, adding in a 'sorry' when Claire's brow furrowed slightly. Steff left her changing room, clad only in a bra and jeans, and circled Claire to get a look at her outfit in full.

"Oh my god, your butt looks amazing!" she exclaimed, causing Claire's face to glow in bright red.

"Okay, okay, I'll buy it. Now stop looking at my behind!" she said defensively, then hurried back into her changing room.

Later in the day, with all of their hefty weekly allowances spent, the girls gathered in the food court with their shopping bags pooled at their feet. Each of them had a smoothie, size small, and already Heather was complaining about already being too fat to get away with treating herself like this.

"James is so going to dump me if I get any bigger," she whined.

"You're not fat at all!" Claire said.

"I so am, I have thunder thighs."

"No, you're just pear-shaped. Claire's the same," Steff said, looking to Claire for some justification. Claire wasn't so sure she enjoyed being likened to a pear, but she nodded anyway.

"I just get so, like, self conscious when we have sex, you know? Like I'm gonna crush him by accident," said Heather.

"Oh, shut up, you would never. Every guy on the football team knows how lucky he is to have you as a girlfriend," Benny said, "so if he ever gets weird about the way you look, remind him of that."

"Speaking of sports, can we talk about the deal with Claire and Andy Clarke?" Steff said, nudging Claire's elbow. Claire took a large gulp from her smoothie to avoid talking.

Big mistake. Brain freeze.

"Ouch," she moaned as she rubbed at her head.

"Come on, Claire, we saw him talking to you the other day and you never told us what he said!" Steff said. Heather was still sulking at the other end of the table.

"Because it wasn't important, really. Nothing's going on," Claire responded, finally, once recovered.

"That's such a lie. What did he say?" Benny said.

"He just asked if I was going to Stubby's party, and I said I didn't know, because I didn't. Then he said he'd see me there if I decided to show. End of conversation."

Steff made a squealing noise in excitement. The girls all tended to do that a lot.

"He so likes you! Do you think he'll make a move at the party?"

"God, I hope not," said Claire.

"What is with you and guys, Claire? You never like any of them back. You're not a…a lesbo, are you?" Benny said, whispering the last question and glancing around to make sure no one around had heard her.

"No! Of course not! I just… I don't know, I'm not interested in anyone at school."

"Maybe you'd change your mind if you kissed Andy Clarke," Steff said in a sing-song voice.

Claire smiled, and shrugged her shoulders.

"Maybe. We'll see what happens tonight."


	7. Crashing Stubby's Party

John Bender was in Jev's garage when Travis suggested crashing a party being thrown tonight.

It was Saturday night, and after a long day of smacking his head against his desk in detention, he'd never felt freer in his whole life.

Vernon had been right. It was just the two of them in complete solitary confinement in the school's library. There wasn't a point during the whole day where he didn't feel like he wanted to claw his own eyes out or make a break through the window to save himself from the torture.

"Whose is it?" Ronnie asked between a sip of his brown paper bagged beer. He had originally bought the drinks for himself, seeing as he was the only one of the group with any sort of ID—despite it being fake—but when the guys turned up at his door, he found it hard to refuse giving them a couple of cans each. That, combined with the fact that they had all taken them anyway, without asking permission.

"What's his face, Stubby," Travis replied.

"That dumb fuck," said Bender.

"Yeah, overheard about it in the hallway on Friday. Figured it gives us a motive for the night."

"But it'll be full of a load of rich shits."

"No way, man, apparently his parents are gone for the week so he's pretty much made it a free-for-all, provided you bring your own drinks."

"Which Ronnie has gladly taken care of," Jev said, slinging his arm around his friend who was seated in a worn-out looking arm chair. Ronnie immediately pushed him away, but they both laughed it off.

John stood up from the floor.

"But if it's a free-for-all, there's a very high chance of the cops showing up. And I don't want to be around for that," he said, holding his hands up in defence.

"So we'll go for an hour and if it blows, we'll leave. If it's the greatest fucking party we've ever been to, we'll stay for two, maximum. Every man for himself, and all that."

"You're so fucking persistent, Travis. Are you, like, totally in love with Stubby?" Ronnie said, putting on his best high pitched voice to mimic some of the conversations he heard the girls around school having.

"Yeah, I want to have his babies. So let's go now so I can see ol' lover boy," Travis replied.

"I'm in," John began, "but if any of you pussies get kicked out or arrested, I'm not helping you."

Bender and his friends arrived at the rich neighbourhood of Shermer just as the party was in full swing. None of them knew where Stubby lived, but the music coming from a house closer to the end of the street was so loud that it could be figured out easily.

"Lets go crash a fucking party!" Jev said to his friends, earning glares in reply.

"Don't be such a homo, man," replied Ronnie, knocking him as they walked along.

Once inside, the group split up quickly as they began to mingle in with the rest of the party. Travis was right; it pretty much was a free-for-all. There were guys in expensive suit jackets talking to girls in jean shorts and beat up heavy boots, and people in the kitchen who looked like they'd never been outside in their lives drinking from a keg. Bender opened his other can of beer and downed half of it quickly. This was going to be interesting.

He carried on around the house, scoping out the rest of the situation before deciding his plans for the night, because so far it didn't look hopeful. In one of the many living rooms Stubby seemed to have, there was someone attempting to climb up onto a chandelier from a table with a group circled around, cheering him on. In the corner of the room, John noted, was Stubby himself, passed out with a lamp shade on his head.

"This is like some cheesy fucking college movie," he muttered to himself, and carried on towards the backyard. Just outside the door, John was stopped by a younger guy who couldn't have been much older than 15.

"Dude, dude, hey," he said, putting his hand up to John's chest to stop him. He was extremely drunk.

Bender only raised his eyebrows in reply.

"Look, man, I'm really desperate, do you got any weed on you? Pills? Anything?"

"I'm not sure that's a good idea, pal, given your current state."

"Please, I'm so desperate."

"Have you ever taken any of that shit before?"

"No, but dude, seriously, I just feel like I'm craving it so bad, you know?"

Bender nodded, looked at him a moment longer, then started to walk again.

"Stop, no, don't go!" Both of the boys hands were now on Bender's chest. "You seem like a cool guy, man, where you going? What's your name? I'm Craig!"

"Bender. See ya, Craig."

He barged past, seemingly not fazed when Craig grabbed at him again to get him to stay. Once further into the garden, John glanced back briefly and Craig was already introducing himself to someone else, and presumably trying to start up another drug deal.

Upon finding a wall to lean up against, John's hand went into his jacket pocket and pulled out a cigarette from his carton. He lit it, inhaled, and blew the smoke out into the dark sky.

A few minutes later a girl came out of the house, completely ignored Craig's attempts to befriend her, and headed into the backyard, storming past Bender like he wasn't even there.

"This party is a load of shit," she said as she passed, one of her hands knotted in her hair as if ready to pull it out in rage.

"Agreed," Bender responded, causing her to jump around to the culprit.

"You scared me. I didn't know you were there," she said.

"I seem to have that effect on a lot people."

"I wish I did. Then maybe some people wouldn't think they could take certain liberties with me. Like, you'd think because I'm wearing practically a suit, it would be a boy repellant. Right? I've tucked my shirt into my pants, so surely that would stop someone from attempting to put their hands up it, correct?"

"No offence, but I-" Bender was just beginning to tell her that he really couldn't care less about whatever she was rambling on about, but she interrupted him.

"I was so wrong, about everything. My friends were all like, 'oh, you should see how it goes with Andy, he's a cool guy, you've never had a boyfriend,' so I think, what's the worst that could happen? I could start dating an alright guy or at least get a decent few kisses in. But Andrew comes up to me just now, drunk out of his mind, and pulls me aside saying he wants to talk to me. The next thing I know, his hands are all up my shirt, on my bra, he's trying to stick his tongue down my throat or at least all over my neck, so I slap him and I get away, and you know what Heather had the cheek to say to me afterwards? 'Why are you so frigid?' Can you believe that? She thinks I'm frigid because I don't want to get felt up in the middle of a party!"

Finally, she stopped speaking, and seemed to be attempting to regain her breath. Although it was dark out, John could see that he cheeks were bright red. He took another drag from his cigarette.

"You've never had a boyfriend?" was all he said.

"That's besides the point! Do you not understand how…how awful that must have been for me? How… violated I feel right now?!"

"Sounds like you're feeling sorry for yourself."

"Oh, what do you even know? You're just some guy stood in the yard. Who are you anyway?"

Bender's mouth twitched into a smile. She was feisty and confident, but maybe that was just the alcohol talking. He knew he'd have no chance with her, though, because the Heather in her story was right. She sounded way too frigid.

He stepped forward as he put the cigarette back up to his lips.

"Who are you?" he said, raising his eyebrows at her. Her face seemed to falter slightly, as if she recognised him.

"You're the guy who set off the fire alarm, aren't you? The one who climbed the flag pole?"

"Sounds like something I'd do."

"And the one who lit up a joint in the middle of the homecoming game."

"Now, you got me there."

The girl began to laugh, and Bender allowed himself to smile in response. He couldn't help it, he was a funny guy.

"I'm Claire," she said.

John knew he recognised her as well. He knew her kind, at least; she was one of the rich shits he had wanted to avoid while at this party.

His mind was immediately filled with insults, witty one liners, ideas to tease her about her getup that made her look like a prepubescent boy, or the fact her name belonged to a fat girl. But in that moment, with a few beers down him, he didn't want to make her night any worse than it already was. Call it his good deed of the day.

"John Bender."


	8. Unclaimed Alcohol

A short while later, Claire had sat herself up against the wall that Bender had just been standing against.

"You wanna sit with me?" she asked.

"Not really."

"Someone's a bit hostile."

"Look who's talking," he said, but he crouched down next to her anyway.

"So, what did Vernon give you for the fire alarm?"

"He put me over his desk and spanked me until my ass was red."

Claire snorted, then slapped him on the arm.

"Shut up. No, really."

"I got detention."

"Oh, well, that's…average."

"Yeah, 'cept it was today. All day. Just me and Vernon, alone, together."

"Wait, like an eight hour Saturday thing?"

John nodded.

"No way!" Claire squealed. Bender winced in response. "I was supposed to go to that. That's what he gave me earlier in the week for cutting class."

"And that's exciting because?"

"I don't know, it just is. It's weird, we could have been in detention all day together."

"So how'd you get out of it?"

Claire pressed her lips together.

"It sounds so stupid, but my dad went into school and told them I couldn't attend it. I'm no longer eligible for detentions outside of school hours, either."

"Well, it's alright for some," Bender muttered, getting back up to his feet.

"What do you mean?"

"Some people aren't so unlucky in that their daddies can buy them out of detention, you know?"

"Oh, come on, don't be like that. You want a drink? There's tons in the kitchen that no one else is claiming."

"I'm good, actually."

"Well, I want one, so either you stay here alone or you come with me," she said, getting to her feet and wiping the gravel from the ground off her trousers. She began to walk back towards the door, glancing over her shoulder to see if John was following.

For some reason, he walked after her.

He knew that if this had been any other night, any other situation, she wouldn't even look twice at him. Nor would he look twice at her. So he figured he'd humour her for now, while she was feeling friendly and tipsy.

Claire liked having company that wasn't her usual crowd. Sometimes they gave her such a headache, and after what had been done and said tonight, she didn't want to talk to them again for at least a few hours, maybe a day.

What she needed was to be way more drunk than she currently was.

Once in the kitchen, she proceeded to open up a bottle of vodka and fill a random cup half way with it. Then she passed it over to John, who was watching her like he was either wary or just bored, and topped up the rest of the cup with diet coke.

"Someone's on a mission tonight," Bender muttered, and Claire smiled as she put the cup to her lips and began to drink. Bender's eyes widened further as she carried on, finishing the drink all in once.

"It's a party, right? I'm gonna party," she said, breathless once more.

John nodded once, unsure of how to respond. He took a sip from his drink, neat vodka, stopping as Claire began to move onto the next room, taking the bottle of vodka with her. John thought to follow, if only for the alcohol, but he knew better than to do that.

Claire carried on into the living room, the same room where the boy had attempted to climb the chandelier, only now all that was left of it was broken glass on the floor and parts of it still hanging onto the ceiling. She found Steff quickly, who was helping to clear up—badly.

"Can't we just, like, call a maid, guys?" she shouted over the pop music blasting throughout the whole house. The guy next to her swung his arm around her shoulders and began to whisper in her ear causing her to giggle in response, but then she quickly removed herself from his embrace when she spotted Claire.

"There you are! I thought I'd lost you!" she exclaimed.

"Not me, I just had to get some air. I was talking to some guy out there but… I don't know where he went," Claire said, suddenly aware that John hadn't following. Momentarily, she thought about going back to find him, but she also knew better than to do that.

"Was he cute?"

"I don't know, it was dark outside. He was funny, though."

"Oh, screw that! Unless he's Andrew Clarke level hot, then I don't want to hear about it."

"Andy is not hot, he's a pig."

"Don't be such a baby. Here, little baby, have some more juice from your bottle. Go on," Steff said, putting on a babyish voice as she attempted to force feed Claire the vodka from the bottle she had in her hands. Claire began to drink, but as Steff carried on pouring she winced at the after burn and moved away, causing it to end up on the floor instead.

"Oh, what a waste. Bad baby!" Steff said, giggling again, then turned around back to the guy who she had been with who had just slapped her butt. She grinned at him, then turned back and leant into Claire's ear.

"That's the kind of hot guy I'm talking about! If I hadn't already nabbed him, I'd set you up," she whispered, then went back over to him.

At any other time, Claire would perhaps be more worried for her friend. The man was at least in his twenties, and had a weird, leery look about him. But the reminder of Andy had made Claire feel angry again, so she ignored it and carried on moving around the house.

After wandering around a few times and talking to anyone that approached her, Claire began to realise that mansions weren't too big after all. She had ended up close to the spot she had been in just before she ran outside, and all of her friends were still in almost exactly the same place. Heather waved when she saw her, but even from a distance Claire could tell it was sarcastic.

"Why did you have a problem with me earlier, Heather?" she said when she approached her, finding it hard not to stumble over any of her words.

"What?!" Heather squeaked, "Claire, I love you, you're, like, a long lost sister. Why would I have a problem?"

"I thought you were mad at me, for rejecting Andy."

"Well, even though I don't understand why you'd reject him, we all make mistakes."

Claire frowned, unsure whether Heather truly understood what she was saying. At that moment, James came up behind Heather and started kissing her on the neck.

"James, James! Stop! I'm talking to Claire!" she squealed. James looked up to smile at Claire, then went back to what he was doing.

"This keeps happening to me tonight," she muttered.

Heather and James suddenly seemed way too occupied to carry on talking to Claire.

"I'm going to find John again," Claire slurred.

"Who?" Heather replied, looking away from James long enough to see Claire wave her hand in a sort of 'forget it' way before sauntering off.

The last place she had seen Bender was in the kitchen, so Claire began to make her way back there. As she passed through the doorway, someone grabbed her hand and pulled her back.

"Claire."

It was Andy.

Claire immediately attempted to pull her hand away, but he had a tight grip.

"Can we just talk, please?" he said, seemingly more sobered up than he was before.

"Fine."

"I'm sorry about what I did, it's just... it's so frustrating."

"What is?"

"Liking you! You're so closed off to everything, don't you realise that?"

"Andrew…"

"No, listen to me."

He was getting frustrated now.

"Let me go, please," Claire said as calmly as she could muster.

"Humour me, Claire, just see what it's like. I'm drunk, you're drunk, we won't even remember this tomorrow!"

"I'm…I'm going home now. So let me go, and maybe some other time, okay?"

"You don't mean that! What is it about me? Am I not good enough?"

"You're starting to hurt me," Claire said desperately, trying to pull her arm back. Andy suddenly seemed to remember himself, and let go.

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine. I just don't want to do this while we've been drinking."

"So you'll give me another chance?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Claire saw a mop of dark hair push past someone to head for the door.

"Sure," she said, then walked away, her sights now set on finding the boy from the yard again.


	9. Vomit Covered Trousers

Claire stumbled out of the house just as Bender was leaning a boy over the railings so he could throw up into the flowerbed down below.

"John?"

He looked up at the sound of his name.

"I lost you," she said, then walked over to him.

"Well, here I am," he said as he repositioned his grip on the boy.

"What are you doing?"

"Well, my buddy Craig here decided to start throwing up on Stubby's fine upholstery, so I brought him outside."

Bender was obviously struggling to keep hold of Craig, who every few moments attempted to stand before throwing his body back at the side, almost sending himself over a few times. Claire moved to his other side, a frown on her face.

"You're not going to beat him up, are you?"

John's head snapped up to look at her, but he didn't respond.

"I'm sorry," she spoke again, quieter this time, but he still didn't respond, focusing his attention instead on Craig.

"Do you not want to talk?"

"I'm kind of occupied at the moment," he said, just as Craig began slipping backwards again. "Grab hold of him."

Claire did as she was told, but that didn't stop her from hounding Bender with questions.

"Do you not like me?"

"What gave you that idea?"

"You just don't seem very happy to see me."

"Princess, I'm ecstatic."

Claire shuffled on her feet, feeling her cheeks burning out of embarrassment. She definitely wasn't used to being treated like this.

"I can leave if you want," she said, "I was just heading home… then Andrew grabbed me."

John looked up, shaking his head so the hair that had fallen in front of his face fell back behind his ears. "The guy who felt you up?"

Claire nodded.

"Did he hurt you?"

"Not really, just confirmed that this officially party sucks."

"Agreed. I was leaving before Craig here cornered me and began chucking up everywhere."

"Do you know him?"

"We're best buds."

"Really?"

"No. But we could be. Friends hold each others hair back, and all."

Claire began to laugh. She had only known John Bender for a few hours, at the most, but she much preferred him when he was joking around.

"You're funny."

"I take that as a personal offence."

"Oh, no, don't, it was a comp-"

He cut her off.

"I'm kidding, sweets."

"Oh…"

Finally his eyes met hers, and he was smiling. She mirrored him, and they stayed that way for a few seconds longer before he interrupted the moment by looking back down.

"I'm getting out of here. You good, Craig?"

He patted Craig on the back, who responded with a thumbs up. Carefully, they both helped him back up until he was stood on his feet, and then John led him over to sit down on the porch chair, leaving Claire stood on her own.

"Are you driving?"

With Craig now set down, John looked back at her properly, suddenly feeling bare now that he wasn't supporting the body of the smaller, younger boy. He smiled, somewhat sarcastically.

"Not everyone can afford a car at eighteen."

"I take that as a personal offence."

At the retelling of his own joke, John's sarcastic smile fell and his real, teeth exposed, smile was on his face instead.

"I was just asking," Claire began again as Bender began to walk down the porch steps, "because I was meant to get a ride tonight, but my designated driver is currently occupied with alcohol and her boyfriend."

"I could see how that might be a problem."

Claire still followed him as he leant on the small picket fence in front of the house and jumped over it in one swift moment, except she opted to unlock and walk through the gate.

"Do you want to walk with me? I don't live too far from here."

"I figured that as much," he said, referring to the rich location they were in.

The sound of Claire's heels on the pavement stopped as she waited for his answer. John looked over his shoulder, then nodded.

"Sure, why not."

They started up walking again in silence, neither of them knowing what to say, just listening as the sound of the music from the house began to grow quieter the longer they walked. They were practically in step with each other, but Claire steered their direction towards her home, which was a good ten minutes away. Briefly, she looked down at the ground.

"Gross, I think Craig got vomit on my trousers."

Bender followed her gaze.

"That boy has no respect for designer clothing."

"Oh, I don't care about that. I hate this outfit. I'm more worried about smelling like throw up."

"Why did you wear it if you hate it?"

"I don't know. My friends said I looked good in it so I bought it. It's kind of stupid, I guess."

"You always do what your friends tell you do to?"

"No… I… well…"

"Good, because you're better than that."

Claire paused, halting their walk.

"You think?"

"Sure, everyone is."

"Oh, I thought you meant… Never mind."

They started walking again.

"So was the detention today bad?" Claire asked.

"Painfully."

"I'm glad I missed that one, then."

"What did you do to almost get thrown in there?"

"What, you mean why did Vernon threaten me with detention?"

John nodded.

"You'll hate me if I tell you."

"Try me."

"I went to the mall with my friend to go shopping."

"You think I'd hate you because you went _shopping_?"

"You just don't seem like a materialistic kind of guy."

"Only because I don't have said materials in the first place."

"It's just different talking to you. Refreshing, almost. Most people only talk to me about fashion, gossip, they think that's all they know about. But I know a lot more than just that."

"Well, what would you prefer?"

"I don't know, it would be nice if just once someone asked me about…like what I'm passionate about. Rather than just…other stuff."

"What _are_ you passionate about?"

"Lots of things. Mostly books. I love to read."

"That's surprising," John said, stopping them again so he could light his cigarette.

"I wish it wasn't surprising. Just because I'm…you know, popular, doesn't mean I don't like academic things."

"Do you think you're popular?"

"Well… I wouldn't say I'm not, you know? Reasonably so, at least. A lot of people know who I am."

"I didn't."

"Well, now you do. And you're the only person to know about the book thing, too."

John laughed quietly as he let out a breath of smoke; it was illuminated by the street lights.

"It's an honour."

"What about you?"

"Me?"

"What are you passionate about? Besides uncontrollable amounts of sarcasm."

"I don't know. It's not something I really talk about."

"I guess it's a pretty deep conversation. You should probably save it for your girlfriend."

"I probably wouldn't, even if I had one."

"You don't?"

"No. It's not really my thing."

"What, one guy one girl?"

John nodded.

"Why not?"

"Why are you so persistent?"

"It's just…I've never heard that before. That's the way I thought things were supposed to be."

"Not for me."

"So you've never had a girlfriend?"

"I've had girls. I've considered them."

"What do you mean, consider?"

"Consider if I want to hang out with them."

"Do you consider me?"

They stopped again as John looked at her before responding. He felt like she was testing him.

"Do you want me to?" he replied.

Claire pursed her lips.

"I think so."

"Not while you're wearing trousers covered in puke."

It didn't take much longer until they were stood outside of Claire's house. John looked up at the home, half aware that his mouth was slightly agape at the sight of it. She definitely was a princess.

"Thank you for walking me," she said.

"Thanks for the company."

"Will I see you at school?"

"Well, Shermer's only so big.".

"I'd like to. No joking around."

"You see how you feel about that tomorrow morning."

John pressed his lips together in the form of a smile, and then began back walking in the other direction. By walking her home, he had only distanced himself further from Jev's garage, which he planned to crash in tonight. For some reason, he didn't mind too much.

Claire watched him walk away, stumped for what to say in the moment of time. He knew, just as she did, that it was illogical for them to be friends, never mind consider each other. As far as anyone else was concerned, their conversation hadn't even happened.

"John," she called after him, running down the street to catch up with him. "I know you're probably thinking that I'm only talking to you because I've been drinking, but you have to know I'm telling the truth when I say that my mind won't change in the morning. But if yours does, I don't mind. If you want to forget that we ever became friends, spoke, whatever this is, you can. But I wanted you to know that about me."

Bender was just about to protest that she seemed to assume the worst of him, that he would do something as mean as that, when she took ahold of his face and locked their lips together, almost as if sealing some sort of deal. And despite knowing that maybe it was sick and twisted, considering the fact that just an hour before she had been crying over another guy attempting to do this with her, John kissed her back. He wrapped his arms around her waist, felt where her shirt was tucked into her trousers as she wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling how his hairs were standing up after being exposed to the cold night air.

When they broke away, Claire's face was flushed red and smiling, bashfully, like she'd never done something so daring before. Maybe she hadn't.

They said their goodbyes again, but John Bender walked slowly now, looking back over his shoulder every few seconds to watch her going into her house.


	10. Good Morning, Beautiful

"Good morning, beautiful."

John Bender opened his tired eyes. They were still adjusting to the florescent garage light above, but he could make out the colours of Travis's face as it leaned in dangerously close to his own. He shoved him out of the way with his hand as he sat up.

John had made it to his friend's house some time in the early hours of the morning and recalled being alone when he fell asleep, using his jacket as a pillow. Now his friends surrounded him, spaced out on the floor, all awake apart from Ronnie, who was curled up on the armchair.

"What time is it?" he said, his voice textured with last night's cigarettes and alcohol.

"Eight A.M, the start of a wonderful day," Travis replied in the voice he put on whenever he imitated suburban fathers, sitting with his legs bent and elbows rested on his knees. Bender groaned and fell back onto the ground.

"Wake me in the afternoon."

"Can't," Jev said, laying on his side to look at both of them. He was shirtless, having gotten too warm sleeping in the muggy garage, but that wasn't anything uncommon. Ronnie always said that Jev sweated like an animal in heat. "My mom said you all need to clear out soon so she can use the garage."

"No fair," Bender rolled over again, burying his face into his jacket.

"What time did you leave last night?" Travis asked.

"I dunno," Jev replied, "I'm not actually sure what happened last night."

John reminded everything, though. He lifted his head up.

"I helped some kid ruin Ms Stubby's lawn arrangement by letting him puke all over it."

"Nice!"

"Then some girl asked me to walk her home."

"Who?"

"Claire, I think her name was. Not sure."

"What did she look like?"

Bender thought for a moment, then stifled a laugh at the memory of her suit covered in specks of vomit.

"Not good."

"Oh, Bender, did you give her the hot beef injection?" Travis asked, nudging him with his foot. John's hand quickly shot up and smacked it, causing Travis to recoil quickly. "Touchy, touchy."

Bender then proceeded to get up, properly now, picking his jacket up from the floor and putting it back on. He ran his hands through his hair, slicking it back, then looked down at the two other boys still sitting on the floor.

"I'm off now anyway. Things to do, and all that. I'll see you dildos tomorrow."

Travis and Jev thought nothing of the exchange about Claire Standish once John had left. By Monday morning, they'd forgotten it ever happened. It was insignificant. Ronnie had slept through it, so he didn't even know about it anyway.


	11. Phone Call

"Claire speaking," Claire Standish said into her telephone. It was light pink and sat on a stand next to her bed, and the only people who had its number was her brother and her best friends. Claire wasn't surprised when she heard Steff's high pitched voice speaking back to her.

"Claire! It's Steff!"

"Hey, Steff," a smile sprung to Claire's face.

"I have so much to tell you about last night."

"Shoot."

"Well, like, after you left, I totally got it on with that hot guy. Like, all the way fun in Stubby's parent's room. Kind of gross when I think about it now, but he was good."

"You had sex?"

"Well, it's not like, you know, he made me finish, but he definitely enjoyed it. So I took that as a compliment. He gave me his number but he said he's a college student so he has to go back soon."

"Steff, it's not even break for college students yet. Christopher would tell me if it was."

"Oh, shit, you're right. Well, either way, I don't think I want to see him again. He was a little bit touchy feely, you know? Too clingy for me. I almost gave him my room number back but then I didn't want him calling me at random times in the night. Or, what if he had the house number, and my dad picked up the phone and asked him how he knew me? Could you imagine!"

Steff burst into a fit of giggles, and didn't speak again until she had recovered. Claire took the time to get comfortable on her bed, laying back onto her quilt.

"So where did you end up going off to last night after I saw you?" Steff said.

"I'm surprised you remember."

"Shut up! I really wasn't that bad."

"You spilt vodka all over the carpet. God, I hope Stubby has a good maid."

"Quit changing the subject, where did you go?"

"Well…uh…I went to see Heather, and basically confronted her, because she called me frigid. I feel like she has a problem with me for some reason. We're supposed to be friends, though."

"I think she's just jealous that your Prada backpack totally cost way more money than hers and it's so obvious."

"Well, she denied it when I asked. Like she would tell me to my face, though, right? So then I left, and bumped into Andy again, and he wouldn't let me go and he sort of scared me."

"So it's a no-go with him?"

"Yeah. I'm really not into him."

"That's a shame. But fair enough, you know, there are even cuter guys out there."

"Well, that's what I'm getting to. After that I went outside and saw that guy I had been talking to. And God, Steff, he's so rude! But so cool at the same time. Like every time he was mean to me, I wanted to talk to him more. It was so…so…endearing."

"Endearing?"

"You know, like, loveable. It made me like him more."

"But he was being a dick?"

"Not exactly. Just kind of, I don't know, commenting on things in an honest way. And he walked me home, and Steff, he said something about how I probably wouldn't remember this in the morning and I was like, I will, and I'd still like to talk to you, and I kissed him!"

"Wait, you kissed him?"

"Yeah!"

Steff let out a squeal down the phone line and Claire couldn't stop herself from smiling.

"Tell me about him," Steff said quickly, "What does he look like? Hair colour? What was he wearing—ooh, does he have a good body?"

"He's got like long dark hair and dark eyes. And tanned skin. And he's like…broad. Like a football player build."

"Is he a football player?"

"I doubt it, he's not the sort."

"Wait, so what sort is he then?"

"I guess he's…kind of like a rebel. Like the burners who hang out on the field."

There was a small pause between the conversation. It didn't last longer than a few secods, but usually in Claire's calls to Steff there was never a moment of dead air.

"Is that bad?" Claire asked.

"No…I don't think so…it's just, those guys are kind of…low lives."

"Not him! You just have to talk to him and he's not at all like that. He's funny and nice when you give him reason to be. And a very good kisser."

"I just don't think it's a good idea, Claire…they're into, you know, drugs, and smoking. It would seriously damage your image."

"Who cares about my image?"

"You should! What would your AP teachers think if they saw you hanging with someone like that? Or your parents?"

"You have a point."

"I know I do. Like, I'm so happy and proud that you made out with this guy, but he might be bad news. Or he might not be. You know, that bad boy look is totally in right now, actually. You could even start a trend! Every girl will want a bad boy boyfriend if Claire has one, you know?"

Claire pulled a face, knowing Steff couldn't see it. She was talking about John Bender like he was a new item of clothing, something to be advertised and marketed. That was the only way that any of her friends would understand him.


End file.
